4 Dec 2014
Hestia's...addiction (not Facebook)
The sort of miserable that only a packet of Kitkats can soothe.
And it has been dreich for DAYS.
This is why I woke up this morning to find my tummy resting on the mattress next to me, like a newly-born puppy.
If it HAD been a newly-born puppy, I would have given it a cuddle or at least an affectionate pat and named it Archie. But since it was my tummy, I gave it an irritated slap and threw myself onto my back to make it 'disappear'.
I ran my hand over my tummy. Once upon a time I could do this and my palm slipped from one hip bone to the other, dipping slightly into a little valley that lay between my hips. Concave it was. Once.
When I did it this morning, my hip bones were still there, but some bastard had come along and built a wobbly hillock in my valley. Convex it is. Now.
I am slowly killing myself with Tunnocks Caramel Wafers, I thought angrily. This has got to stop.
So, for breakfast I had a bowl of porridge and allowed myself a virtuous smirk. Sure, there was about 20g of salt in it (come on, you've got to give the stuff SOME flavour)
BUT. Then I was dispatched to the supermarket.
Which was a mistake.
I came home with everything on my list...
...Plus a packet of Mars Bars cakes
....and two fresh cream and jam slices.
Eagerly I filled the kettle and made ready two mugs of instant coffee. Tartarus was out in the garage painting a bit of wood (I'll explain later) and said that he would be in shortly.
Reader, by the time he had come in for his coffee, I had eaten my fresh cream and jam slice. And THREE shortbread fingers.
I am completely ashamed of myself. Even Tartarus comments on the missing cake and shorty. And you know how observant HE is.
I'm a sugar junkie
Any hints or tips to get myself clean?!
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